


Snow Was Falling So Much Like Stars

by Cinaed



Category: Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Javert Survives, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Post-Seine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-31 00:12:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6447670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinaed/pseuds/Cinaed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For all that they have settled into this strange friendship over the months since the fall of the barricade, Valjean still unsettled Javert in a way no one else managed, his tongue turning foolish whenever Valjean was near.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow Was Falling So Much Like Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently I wrote this ages ago and only ever published it on Tumblr, but I liked it enough to put it on Tumblr. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> The title comes from a Mary Oliver poem.

“Are you mad?” Javert demanded when he opened the door to find Valjean shivering in the hallway.

He ushered Valjean in with a hand on his back, his skin going almost instantly numb from the snow still clinging to the thick fabric of Valjean’s winter coat. “Do not tell me you walked here in the storm!" 

Valjean smiled sheepishly, or at least made the attempt despite the chattering of his teeth. "I was already halfway here when it began to snow,” he said, as though that was a proper excuse. He took off his hat and made another face as snow scattered upon Javert’s floor. “I did not think the storm would come upon us so quickly.”  

Javert restrained himself to a snort, more concerned with the hint of blue to Valjean’s lips and the pink of his cheeks than with arguing. He realized that he was still touching Valjean’s back; he dropped his hand to his side, curling and uncurling his fingers until sensation returned to them. “Take off your coat,” he said. It came out more of an order than he intended; he flushed a little at Valjean’s half-amused, half-startled look.

He hid his embarrassment by walking briskly to the stove and adding some more wood until the fire practically roared. "My landlady was going to bring up some supper in a half-hour,“ he said over his shoulder. "Please, sit and I’ll have her prepare something for you as well.” This time the words came out practically a plea, equally as awkward as the order. He grimaced down at the stove, frustrated with himself. For all that they have settled into this strange friendship over the months since the fall of the barricade, Valjean still unsettled him in a way no one else managed, his tongue turning foolish whenever Valjean was near. 

“Oh, you needn’t–”

When Javert turned, Valjean looked flustered. While Javert had tended the fire, Valjean had taken off his coat and gloves and set them upon the desk, mindful of the case files. Minute tremors moved through him still; even as Javert watched, Valjean rubbed at his arms to warm himself. 

Javert masked his concern with an exasperated grunt. “Valjean, will you please sit by the fire?” He wanted to take Valjean by the arm and lead him to the chair, but did not quite dare, unsure of whether his touch would be welcome. 

“I am all right, Javert,” Valjean said quietly, and Javert blinked, realizing that Valjean was smiling at him, a soft, tentative turn of his lips, as though it was somehow both baffling and pleasing that Javert was concerned. 

Javert gave in to the impulse to touch him then, clasping Valjean’s shoulder and intending to draw him closer to the stove. But Valjean went still at the touch, a surprised sound escaping him. Javert was suddenly aware that they were both in their shirtsleeves and how close they stood. 

Heat warmed his face and half-dizzied him. "Valjean,“ he said, uncertain as Valjean’s mouth twisted into another of his flustered smiles. His lips were still blue, Javert realized, and lifted his other hand to Valjean’s mouth before he could over-think the gesture.

Valjean’s breath stuttered against his fingertips, his lips cold and still for a moment before Valjean breathed out a questioning, "Javert…?” The small movement felt the way Javert imagined a kiss would, Valjean’s mouth brushing lightly against his skin. Now it was Javert who had to bite back a startled sound at the strange and unfamiliar arousal that moved through him. 

“Javert,” Valjean said again, in a different tone than before.

Javert’s face warmed even more. Valjean would not need the stove at this rate, for surely the heat of Javert’s blush would warm him just as much. He closed his eyes and attempted to gather his thoughts, which had scattered at Valjean speaking. 

He was unprepared for Valjean’s hand upon his wrist. It gently but firmly drew Javert’s away from his lips. His eyes opened in time to catch the determined set of Valjean’s mouth and the warmth in his gaze before Valjean’s lips touched his own in a brief kiss. 

For a moment Javert was frozen in place. “Valjean,” he sighed against Valjean’s mouth, dizzy with arousal and something else too, an astonished tenderness that made his chest ache. He kissed Valjean back, and felt Valjean’s lips warm against his like a sculpture turning from stone to flesh beneath his touch.

But that was foolish, he thought, for Valjean was real and human underneath his hands and lips– a saint, yes, but a man too, one who touched Javert with cautious, wondering fingers and whispered Javert’s name like a promise. 

“Valjean,” Javert said a final time, an answering vow to whatever Valjean was promising him, and then had no more breath for words as he pulled Valjean closer. 


End file.
